Fish Story
by callensensei
Summary: A story in two parts...uh, pieces. Missing sequence from "Beauty Is As Beauty Does."  The Professor and Gilligan find that getting Mary Ann out of the lagoon after the bathing suit mishap is not as easy as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

**Many thanks to JWood21 for beta-reading. We did have a laugh!**

**As always, the credit for Gilligan's Island itself goes to Sherwood Schwartz. I wish the network censors had let him do stuff like this!**

Fish Story

Mary Ann's bathing suit hit Gilligan smack in the face. Not knowing what it was, Gilligan unhooked it and turned it about as the Professor clutched his fishing pole in mute disbelief.

Gilligan eyed the suspicious pair of protuberances at the top. "Must have been a her," he said, wondering whether they had nearly caught a mermaid.

He was soon enlighted. "_Oh!_ Gilligan!"

Both men looked up to see Mary Ann in the rippling waters of the lagoon, her arms crossed over her bare shoulders and her face as red as a well-cooked lobster. "_Gilligan!_"

"Good Heavens!" gasped the Professor. He and Gilligan dropped suit and pole as they clamped their hands over their eyes. In the lagoon Mary Ann sputtered incoherently.

Gilligan took one quick peep through his fingers, and then snapped them closed again. He poked the Professor with his elbow. "You go get her!"

The Professor didn't move. "Don't be ridiculous! You go!"

"Me? Nothing doing!"

_"Professor! Gilligan! Give me my suit!"_

At Mary Ann's prompt the two men dove for the soggy swimwear and grabbed it. As they snapped upright, they began to pull in a panicked tug-of-war.

The Professor reefed the suit backwards. "Gilligan, let go! I'll throw it to her!"

But Gilligan's grip was just as strong, and he hauled on the suit like he was weighing anchor. "Let me, Professor! I've got a good throwing arm!"

"You can't calculate the trajectory! Let me!"

"You'll never get it past first base!"

"Let go!"

"Gimme!"

_RRRRRRIP!_

The scientist and the sailor staggered backwards, each clutching one half of a black bathing suit. Each man looked at his prize, and two mouths fell open in horror.

"Good Heavens!" gasped the Professor.

"Uh oh," gulped Gilligan.

In the lagoon, Mary Ann momentarily lost her voice. When she found it, she _really_ found it. _"You-you-Gilligan! Professor! What have you done!"_

At that moment a native outrigger filled with ferocious headhunters was gliding up the estuary at the mouth of the lagoon. They heard Mary Ann.

"What that?" cried one.

"Evil spirit!" cried another. "Sound very angry!"

The feather-crowned chief nodded. "Bad magic here! Leave this island!"

They turned their canoe about and paddled for open sea as fast as they could go.

"Uh...look on the bright side, Mary Ann!" Gilligan babbled. "Two-piece bathing suits are really in style now!"

"Aaaaah! I've never been so embarrassed in my life! Don't just stand there! Do something!"

The Professor elbowed Gilligan in the ribs. "Gilligan, we've got to get help! Get the women! Get some clothes!"

"Yeah! Good idea!"

Both men spun and sprinted for the jungle.

At the jungle's edge the two men skidded to a halt and stared at each other. "Gilligan! Where are you going?" demanded the Professor.

"Back to camp, like you said!"

"We can't both go! One of us has to stay here with Mary Ann! Don't you remember the Skipper's orders? No one's to be left in the water alone!"

Gilligan nodded. "Fine! Back in a minute!" He made a dash for the trees but the Professor made a desperate lunge and grabbed him by the arm. Gilligan swung around so hard he nearly spun the two of them off balance.

"Wait a minute! Let's be logical about this!" The Professor jerked his thumb at his own chest. "I'll go back to camp!"

"What kind of logic is that? I oughtta go! I run faster than you do!"

"You'll stay! You swim better than I do!"

"What? Oh, no! I'm not swimming anywhere!"

"_Professor, Gilligan – do something!_"

Panicked birds took flight and winged off through the air.

"Gilligan, we can't just stand here arguing!" the Professor insisted. "One of us has to go for help!"

"Who's arguing? I'm volunteering!"

Suddenly the Professor thought of the oldest trick in the world. Stabbing a finger at the lagoon, he shouted, "Look!" When Gilligan did, the Professor ran.

To be fair to the Professor, he had not looked himself when he'd pointed, and therefore had no idea that Mary Ann had put her arms down so that she could tread water. She was also bobbing rather high in said water. As a result, Gilligan was treated to quite a view before Mary Ann's shriek of indignation had him cowering behind his hands again.

Gilligan elbowed the empty air beside him. "Professor! What was I supposed to be looking at? Professor?" The first mate pried his fingers open a crack and peeped around. He searched in vain for a glimpse of the Professor's torso, head or legs, but all he saw was sand and trees. Dread and disbelief building in his heart, Gilligan pulled his hands away. "Professor! Where are you?" He spun around towards the lagoon. "Mary Ann, did you see where—"

"Gilligan!"

"Aaagh!" Gilligan hid his eyes again. "Sorry, Mary Ann!"

He turned and ran for the jungle, but the Skipper's orders boomed in his memory. _Now hear this! No one's to be in the water alone! _

Then Mary Ann's cry rang in his ears. "Gilligan! Please don't leave me alone out here!"

Gilligan skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees, stymied. Cupping his hands, he howled into the jungle. "Professor! Hurry!"

The Professor pelted down the trail through the leafy jungle, guiltily half-expecting a bolt of lightning to blast him on the spot. But no heavenly agent of justice came, and at last he dashed into camp, breathless with his errand.

"Ginger! Mrs. Howell!" he shouted as he stood alone by the bamboo table, panting for breath. "I need your help!"

When no one rushed out of the huts to join him, the Professor swung his head around. He could see nobody, and the camp was very quiet – too quiet. "Mr. Howell? Skipper? Is anybody here?"

He ran to the crew's hut and clutched the bamboo window frame as he peered inside. "Skipper?" The hut was empty.

A tingle of fear began to creep up the Professor's spine. He raced to the Howell hut and rapped a few times at the blanket-draped French doors. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell? Mr. and Mrs. Howell, it's very important! May I come in?"

When no one answered, he thrust the doors open without ceremony. This hut was empty too. The kapa-cloth covered beds lay neatly made and the beaded curtain to the other room swayed gently in the cross-breeze from the window.

The Professor rushed over, rattling the beads as he swept them to one side. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell? Are you home?"

Now panic was setting in. The Professor ran outside and made for the hut that was his last hope, praying that Ginger would suddenly lift the orange curtains and start watering the window-box. "Ginger! Ginger, are you there? I need you!"

The curtains remained in place and window-box stayed dry. The Professor hammered on the wooden door. "Ginger! It's urgent! You've got to help me!" Throwing propriety to the winds, the Professor charged in and found himself horribly alone. Panting, he cast helpless eyes at the pillows, bottles, flowers and draperies of the ladies' boudoir. At last he spotted one of the tall wardrobes, fashioned from salvaged planks and a curtain of sailcloth. "Aha!" the Professor gasped in relief. "Clothes!"

The Professor tore the curtain across to see dresses hanging like a chorus-line packed into a sardine can. Frantically he grabbed one down, stared at it, and realized it was certainly not going to fit Mary Ann.

A deep voice boomed in his ear. "Professor! What in the seven seas are you doing?"

The Professor whirled. "Skipper! Thank goodness! Where is everyone?"

The Skipper was beginning to wish he'd knocked first. He blinked at the Professor, whose front was draped in beaded beige satin. "I sent Gilligan to the lagoon to get something for supper. Ginger's taking a sunbath, the Howells are off practicing for the contest somewhere, and I thought Mary Ann was supposed to be with you. What's gotten into you, Professor? And what are you doing with that dress?"

"I need clothes!" the Professor exclaimed.

The Skipper pushed back his captain's cap, the confusion in his blue eyes turning to worry. "Well, no offense, Professor, but I'd say that outfit looks a lot better on Ginger than it does on you! Are you feeling all right?"

The Professor huffed in frustration as he tossed down the dress on the bed. "Skipper, don't be ridiculous! It's not for me! It's for Mary Ann!"

"For Mary Ann? Does Ginger know about this?"

"Of course not!"

The Skipper reached out and snatched up the beaded dress. "Then what's the big idea? Let Mary Ann wear her own clothes! Whoever wins this beauty contest is gonna win it fair and square!"

Rolling his eyes, the Professor hurried over to the other wardrobe and reefed the curtain across to reveal Mary Ann's clothes. "Skipper, you don't understand! Mary Ann's in the water!"

"In the water? What water?" The Skipper dropped the dress and clutched his hat in alarm. "My gosh, is she okay? She hasn't gone swimming in the strong surf, has she?"

"No, no! She's in the lagoon!" The Professor was fumbling through Mary Ann's wardrobe now, tossing garments down on the other bed with comments of, "No! Too tight! Too loose! Too delicate!"

The Skipper was baffled. The Professor's sudden obsession with women's fashion could hardly have come at a worse time. "Well, is she in trouble? Is she drowning? What'd you go and leave her for?"

"She's not drowning, Skipper! She's perfectly fine! Besides, Gilligan is with her!"

The Skipper scratched his head. "Then what's all the panic about?"

The Professor turned, nearly stamping his foot in frustration. "Mary Ann has no clothes!"

"Well...what's she want clothes for if she's in the water? They'd get all wet – even shrink, maybe!"

The time had come for the naked truth. "I mean she is in the altogether, Skipper! In the nude! Gilligan tore her bathing suit off of her!"

"He _what?_" The Skipper folded his arms. "All right, Professor, I think you must have gone off the deep end for sure! My little buddy would never dream of—"

"By accident, Skipper! He didn't mean to! Mary Ann was swimming in the lagoon and Gilligan tore the suit with a fishhook! Now she's down there in the lagoon with nothing on and she can't get out 'til she has something to cover herself with!"

The Skipper blinked. "And Gilligan's with her?"

"Yes! On shore! He's waiting for me to get back!"

The Skipper's eyes lit as a big grin slowly stole across his whole face. His laughter bubbled up until it boomed around the little hut.

The Professor drew himself up. "Skipper! I see nothing whatsoever amusing about this!"

The Skipper roared. "Oh, Professor! That's only because you can't see your face! It's worth a million dollars! Oh, I wish I could see Gilligan's right now! Ho, ho! I'll kid him for months!"

"Skipper, this is serious!"

By now the old sea-dog was fairly doubled over in his mirth. "'Catch anything nice in the lagoon today, huh, little buddy? Need any help cleaning it?' Ha ha ha!"

"Look, Skipper, we need Ginger, and we need her fast! Just get her and bring her to the lagoon, will you!"

"Oh, don't you worry, Professor. I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Clutching Mary Ann's red gingham dress to himself like a shield, the Professor dashed out the door.

The Skipper saluted the Professor as he ran. "Tell Gilligan to play her as long as he can!" His roar of laughter nearly raised the roof.

Back at the lagoon, Gilligan was still facing the trees, his elbows akimbo. He felt his cheeks must now be matching the colour of his shirt.

Mary Ann was watching his red-shirted back as she treaded water. She was quiet now, though still absolutely mortified. Gilligan's attempt to pass the time by asking her what she thought of the Dodgers had not helped any, nor had her one disastrous query about how it felt to be the judge of a beauty contest. The moment he'd innocently answered, "I gotta be honest with you, Mary Ann. I don't wanna judge this contest at all. The Skipper says if you think something's not right you should just make a clean breast – I mean break - ulp!" her cheeks had felt like hot coals, and she was sure the temperature of the lagoon had risen by about ten degrees. Every moment Gilligan still stood there only a few feet away, she felt the temperature rise a little more.

At last Mary Ann decided to swim off into the deeper centre of the lagoon where the water was cooler. When she found a pleasant spot she stopped, her legs cycling down, down into the shadowy depths, her arms sweeping the bubbling water back over her shoulders. Tiny, bizarre fish darted about just beneath the surface, their hues and shapes nothing Mary Ann had ever seen in the old swimming hole at Horners Korners.

Suddenly Mary Ann felt a cold something sweep against her calf and vanish. A moment later she felt it again: long, cold and sinuous. With a gulp Mary Ann looked down and caught a glimpse of a huge serpentine shape writhing through the gloom. She kicked and moved away, but now there were even more of the things, twisting and undulating through the deep water all around her. All at once she felt a thick, cold, slimy coil twine itself around her leg. When she kicked, it tightened.

"_Gilligan! Gilligan, help! It's got me!"_

On the now far-off bank, Gilligan spun. There was no playing peek-a-boo now. "Oh, my gosh! What is it, Mary Ann?" he shouted, terrified by her terror.

Mary Ann's scream was high enough to shatter glass. _"Giant eels! They've got my leg! Help!"_

"Hang on, Mary Ann! I'll save you!" Without a second thought the first mate dove into the lagoon like a torpedo and shot towards her. Rainbows of spray arced as he stroked through the water at top speed. In the meantime Mary Ann screamed, kicked and flailed, conscious only of the swaying shapes around her and the tight, slimy grip on her calf. She barely registered the white of Gilligan's hat and the red of his shirtsleeves growing nearer as he cleaved the water. At last, with one desperate kick, Mary Ann felt the loop on her leg snap. Gasping, she lifted her leg from the water, and saw coiled about it the green stem and trailing leaves of tropical seaweed.

Mary Ann gulped in lungfuls of air, half-dazed with relief. Paddling on her back, she looked around and realized that the tall shapes beneath her were a forest of kelp, gently swaying in the current. She choked, half-laughing, her leg still held up out of the water. "Gilligan, look!" she called happily, as the drenched first mate slowed to a stop about six feet away. She pointed. "Look! It was only seaweed!"

"Oh!" he gasped, his grin soon mirroring hers. "Thank goodness!"

They stayed that way for about a moment, both staring at her upraised leg. Then they looked at one another. For about five seconds.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

It was difficult to tell which one screamed louder.

Mary Ann's leg plunged down and her hands flew up over her chest. "Gilligan! What are you doing! Get out of here!"

Gilligan was cowering behind his arms. "I'm sorry, Mary Ann!" Blindly he turned and hurtled towards shore as if chased by a hammerhead shark. Foam flew in his wake; fish fled out of his way. In moments he stumbled out of the shallows and would have flapped off like a frantic wet fowl, when he stopped himself again. The Skipper's orders.

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann sounded almost in tears. "You didn't see anything, did you?"

Gilligan's hands were over his eyes again. "No, Mary Ann! Honest!" Lying was a sin, but he thought he'd chance it. There wouldn't be many coconut cream pies from here on otherwise. "Professor!" he wailed. "Where are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

When the breathless Professor finally arrived back at the shore of the lagoon, he immediately noticed that two things had changed.

The first was that Mary Ann was much further out than she had been before. Now her green bathing-capped head bobbed way out in the centre of the lagoon.

The second was that Gilligan, shivering miserably on shore with his back to the water, was wet from head to toe. A trail of damp footprints led from the water to his soggy sneakers.

The Professor had always regarded the first mate as an unusually guileless, innocent young man. Now he looked from the footprints to Gilligan with rather suspicious eyes.

Gilligan rushed up to him and grabbed the red gingham dress. "It's about time! Where've you been?"

"Gilligan, what have you been doing?" the scientist demanded.

"Waiting for you!" Gilligan yelped. "What took you so long?"

"What do you mean? I had to go get a dress for Mary Ann!"

"Well, where'd you go to get it, Honolulu? You've been gone for ages!"

"Nonsense!" The Professor's stare raked Gilligan up and down. "Why are you all wet? You said you weren't going to go in!"

"It wasn't my idea!" Gilligan pointed behind himself with his thumb, not daring to risk a look back at the water. The Professor's stare grew even more incredulous.

"Professor!" came a distant cry from the lagoon.

The Professor turned, shading his eyes. "Mary Ann! Are you all right?"

"I will be when I get out of here!"

"We'll have you out in a minute," the Professor called. "I've brought you your dress!"

The two men turned their backs so that Mary Ann could swim in closer. They heard the sound of splashing, and the next time they heard Mary Ann's voice, it sounded closer. "Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was going to have to stay out here 'til night came!"

"We'll just leave it here for you, Mary Ann," the Professor called. "We'll go back to camp now. Don't be afraid, though. You won't be left alone. Ginger's on her way."

"If you saw Ginger in camp, why didn't you bring her with you?" asked Gilligan, a little miffed. "What's the idea leaving Mary Ann and me stuck here so long and then coming back without her?"

"I didn't see Ginger in camp," the Professor explained, raising his voice a little in self-defense. "I saw the Skipper there. He's bringing Ginger."

"Wait a minute!" gasped Mary Ann from behind them. "_The Skipper's_ bringing Ginger?"

"Oh..." The Professor blinked. "Oh, good Heavens." He shook his head. "No, no, I'm sure he'll realize that's completely inappropriate."

"Oh, no he won't," said Gilligan accusingly. "He'll come, all right! Thanks, Professor! Thanks a lot!"

"What do you mean?" asked the Professor, perplexed. "What are you upset about?"

"Professor, what'd you have to go and tell the Skipper for? He's gonna come down here and laugh his head off at me!"

"Gilligan, no he..." The Professor stopped, eyes widening in memory of the Skipper bent over in a paroxysm of hilarity.

Gilligan saw that look and folded his arms across his skinny chest in sullen rebellion. "He's already started, hasn't he? Oh, brother. I can just hear him! 'Never knew you had it in you! Nice going, little buddy! That's _my_ idea of a treasure chest!'"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," the Professor cut in. "It's simple enough. One of us can go back and head him off!"

"But he and Ginger could get here any minute! And we don't know which trail they're taking! Who knows where Ginger went to take her sunbath?" said Gilligan.

"Maybe you'd better just throw me my dress so I can put it on by the time they get here," Mary Ann called, a little exasperated. "I don't care if it gets wet." When neither man moved, she sighed. "Don't worry. I'm staying low in the water now."

The Professor and Gilligan looked out to see Mary Ann floating about thirty feet from shore, where the sudden drop off was still deep enough to be over her head.

"Please hurry," she called. "I'm getting tired!"

The Professor balled the dress into a basketball-sized wad of cloth and pitched it at her. It sailed about six feet and flopped into the water.

"Could you throw it a little further, please, Professor?" called Mary Ann, her exasperation growing.

The Professor waded in, snatched up the dress and splashed back to shore. "Sorry about that, Mary Ann," he called, and made to throw it again.

Gilligan caught his arm. "Professor, that'll never work. You're going about it all wrong!"

The Professor scowled slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I skip rocks, see? You can't throw something shaped like that. It'll never get to her!"

"Gilligan, I know physics! I'm a science teacher!"

"Professor, I know water safety! I'm a sailor! You can't throw a bunch of clothes to somebody! You need something solid, so you can aim it!"

The Professor blinked. This was making sense. "Like a life preserver, you mean?"

"Exactly! All we need is something to wrap the dress around so it'll weigh more!"

The Professor pointed to the edge of the jungle. "All right. Get me one of those rocks over there!"

Gilligan looked over and squelched in his wet bellbottoms to where the rocks lay. He found a stone about the size of a bowling ball, and carried it back. "How about this one?"

"That looks fine." Gently but firmly, the Professor took the stone away from him. "I think I'd better do the throwing, Gilligan. Just to make sure there are no more accidents."

Gilligan merely shrugged. "Whatever you say, Professor."

The Professor swiftly wrapped the wet garment around the stone until he stood with the dripping package in both hands. Then he raised it up over his head. "Watch out, Mary Ann! I'll throw it right beside you!" With a grunt, the Professor heaved it with all his might.

The projectile sailed right over Mary Ann's head. In her eagerness she shot up out of the water to grab at it – then looked at the staring Professor and Gilligan, and screamed again.

The men gasped and clapped their hands over their eyes once more.

Behind Mary Ann, the dress cannoned-balled into the water and sank – appropriately - like a stone.

"My dress!" cried Mary Ann. "It's at the bottom of the lagoon!"

"Nice going, Professor," Gilligan whispered. "Maybe we should have used a coconut."

"Why?"

"They float."

It was only minutes later when the Skipper and Ginger arrived. To the other three castaways, it seemed like an eternity.

When she saw Mary Ann's bare shoulders above the lagoon's rippling water, Ginger adjusted the straps of her own bathing suit as if to make sure they were still there. "Poor Mary Ann," she said. "She'll turn into a prune if this keeps up!"

The Skipper waved his twiddling fingers. "Hi, Professor. Hey there, little buddy." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Get any good bites today?"

"I wish something'd bite you," muttered Gilligan, his mood not at all improved by the Skipper's obvious joviality.

"Aw, come on, Gilligan. Where's your sense of humour?" The Skipper patted Gilligan on the shoulder, and then drew back, feeling his hand. "Hey! You're wet!" He looked his first mate up and down. "You're soaked clean through! When'd that happen?"

"When I was back at camp with you," said the Professor dryly. "He says he went in to save Mary Ann."

"I believe it," said Ginger, smiling at Gilligan and shaking her head.

"Then why's Mary Ann still out there?" The Skipper drew back, looked at Gilligan again, and his eyes went wide. He started to laugh. "What's the matter, little buddy? Couldn't land your catch, huh? Put up too much of a fight, did she?" The Skipper clapped Gilligan on the shoulder again as he roared at his own joke.

"Hardy har har," Gilligan growled.

"Skipper!" came a very angry voice from the lagoon. "Did you come down here to laugh at me?"

The Skipper stopped laughing at once. Blushing, he fumbled with his cap. "Ep...oh, no, Mary Ann!"

"Because if you did, you can just plan on cooking your own meals for the next week!"

"But Mary Ann, I..." Alarmed at the turn things had taken, the Skipper rounded on Gilligan. "Now look what you've done!"

"Me? You're the one who was laughing!"

"But I wasn't laughing at—" The Skipper sighed. "How do you get me into these things?"

"Why is poor Mary Ann still in the water, Professor?" asked Ginger. "The Skipper said you were bringing some clothes for her."

"He did. He brought Mary Ann's favourite dress," said Gilligan glumly. "Only the Professor was going for a basket and he overshot the hoop!" He scowled at the Professor. "Guess who's gonna have to dive for that now!"

"Good afternoon, all." They all turned as Mr. and Mrs. Howell strolled out of the jungle, he in a blue golf shirt and she in matching dress and hat. "We came back to camp and found it deserted! What are you all doing down here? I thought there wasn't to be a swimsuit competition."

"There won't be, Mr. Howell," said Gilligan. "We're minus one swimsuit."

"I beg your pardon, son?" said Mr. Howell.

"Oh, honestly!" Mary Ann cried. "Why doesn't somebody just start selling tickets?" She quickly turned and swam further out again.

"Tickets to the competition?" said Mrs. Howell. "I thought it was general admission. Thurston, you will get second row centre, won't you? When I'm on stage I want to wave to you."

"Now look, folks—" the Skipper began, when Mrs. Howell noticed Gilligan's damp condition.

"Why Gilligan, my dear boy, you're simply drenched with perspiration! You'll take sunstroke at this rate!" She looked out at Mary Ann bobbing in the water and smiled. "I know! You need cooling off. Why don't you jump in the lagoon and go join Mary Ann?"

Gilligan's face changed colour. "That won't exactly cool me off, Mrs. Howell!"

Mrs. Howell gazed at his face in concern. "Oh dear – now you're as red as a sugar-beet. It must be sunburn!"

"Will somebody please do something!" Mary Ann cried from far away.

Mr. Howell looked out at the lagoon. "Why, what's the matter with Mary Ann? Why doesn't she come in to shore?"

"She can't, Mr. Howell!" said the Professor. "Her bathing suit's been torn! She's got nothing on out there!"

"What?" Mr. Howell shaded his eyes as he looked at the lagoon once more. "Nothing on! Heavens to Botticelli's Venus! If only I'd brought my opera glasses!"

"What was that, Thurston?" demanded Mrs. Howell.

With the speed of a flamenco dancer, Mr. Howell turned his back on the water and smiled smoothly. "Ahem...slip of the tongue, dear! I meant my opera cloak, of course! Or a trenchcoat, or jacket, or something to cover up the poor girl!"

"Look, of course she can't come out with all of us here!" the Skipper insisted. "Come on, men! Let's go back to camp and let the women handle this!"

Ginger shook her head. "But Skipper, we still haven't got anything for her to put on when she gets out. What are we supposed to hand her, a banana leaf?"

"Better make it more than one," said Gilligan nervously.

"Look, it's simple enough," said the Skipper. "We men'll go back to camp and then send one of us back here with some clothes. Then he can leave again, and you ladies can wait for Mary Ann!"

"Very sensible, Captain!" commended Mr. Howell.

"That was the sensible idea the Professor and I had," muttered Gilligan. "Until the Skipper showed up."

"Oh, Captain, do be sure not to bring her yellow dress with the sunflower," urged Mrs. Howell.

"Why not?"

"Why, my dear man, it would clash most dreadfully with that green bathing cap!" Lifting her lorgnette, Mrs. Howell peered out at the water for a moment. "Yes," she said at last, "something in a light blue would be perfect."

"Oh, Mrs. Howell! We'll worry about fashion later. Right now we need to—"

"_Ow!_" came a sudden sharp cry from the lagoon.

As one, all six castaways whirled. "What's the matter, Mary Ann?" called the Skipper.

Mary Ann was contorted oddly in the water, her right shoulder out and her left submerged. She seemed to be holding her side. "My side! It hurts!" she cried. "Like someone's stuck a knife into me!"

Ginger gasped and called out. "Oh, my gosh! Did something bite you, Mary Ann?"

"No! It just hurts!"

The Professor cupped his hands and called. "Mary Ann! When did you last eat?"

"Just before – ow! – we came here, Professor!"

The Skipper and Gilligan looked at each other. "Oh, no," said the Skipper. "You know what that means!"

"What, Captain?" demanded Mrs. Howell.

"Cramps," said Gilligan. "You never eat just before you go swimming! Skipper, I thought she knew that!"

The Skipper shook his head. "In all the excitement of the competition, she must have forgotten!" Mary Ann's cries were getting sharper and more desperate. "That tears it. We haven't got time to go back for clothes. Modesty or not, somebody's got to go get her now!"

"I would, but I can hardly swim!" lamented Ginger.

"Neither can I!" cried Mrs. Howell. "Thurston, you've got to go!"

"Of course, dear!" He began to unbutton his shirt, then stopped. "But Lovey, have you forgotten? We just enjoyed elevenses a little while ago. I'll end up no better than poor Mary Ann!"

"Look, I'll go and get her!" yelled the Skipper.

"No, I will!" said the Professor. "I'm the one who brought her here!"

"You're both too slow! Let me go!" insisted Gilligan. "Nobody can get to her faster than me!"

"He's right, Skipper," said the Professor. "Speed is of the essence!"

"_Ow!_ Help me, somebody!"

"But he's too little! She'll panic and drag him under!" cried the Skipper. "She almost did it once before!"

"Then he can tow her in!" Dashing to the fallen fishing pole, the Professor snatched it up and thrust it into Gilligan's hand. "Hold that out to her and tell her to hang on!"

"Right, Professor!"

"Before any of you gentlemen bring the poor girl in, I insist that one of you offer her your shirt!" said Mrs. Howell.

The Skipper's eyes flew wide. "Why didn't we think of that? Good idea, Mrs. Howell!" He threw down his cap and reefed his blue polo shirt over his head. "There, Gilligan," he said, hanging the shirt over the end of the fishing pole. "Take her this!"

Mrs. Howell exclaimed in delight. "Oh, that's wonderful, Captain! Just the right shade of blue!"

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Just as long as it covers her, Mrs. Howell."

"It'll cover her, all right," said Gilligan, holding up a corner between his finger and thumb. "On Mary Ann it'll be the size of a mumu!"

"Oh! Gilligan! Shove off, will you?"

Even in his undershirt the Skipper could look menacing. Gilligan charged into the water. "Aye-aye, sir!"

The castaways watched anxiously as Gilligan dove in and propelled himself forward, the fishing pole thrust out before him like a narwhal's horn. Their cries of encouragement echoed all around in a frantic chorus.

"Hurry, Gilligan!"

"Hang on, Mary Ann!"

Though it was awkward trying to swim while pushing a pole, Gilligan was making good speed, gliding forward in a one-armed front crawl with measured, scissoring kicks. Not for the first time did he thank his Navy training with its rigorous swimming tests. He only hoped things would not reach the point where he needed to use his training in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, too.

The crawl kept Gilligan looking sideways, where the lush ranks of lithe, curving palm trees waved their wide fronds in a teasing rhythm. Mary Ann's cries, which had thankfully grown less and less painful, led him on until he could finally chance a quick look forwards. Gilligan did look, and quickly clamped his free hand over his eyes. He was close enough.

"You okay, Mary Ann?"

"Oh! Gilligan! It's... getting better," she gasped, trying to take long breaths. "Still hard to...ungh...swim, though!"

"You won't have to. Just grab this fishing pole, see? I'll tow you in."

"Tow me in? But...but..." She suddenly paused, and he felt something tugging at the end of the rod. "What's this?"

"The Skipper's shirt."

"Oh! Thank goodness! I thought I'd have to wrap myself in seaweed!" He felt the rod tug again, and heard some splashing. "Sure is big!"

"I'll say. We could probably both fit in there!"

Splash. "What?"

Gilligan gulped and banished the mental picture from his mind. "Uh – nothing! Nothing!" When the splashing grew louder, punctuated by little gasps of pain, Gilligan grew concerned. He looked around. "Do you need help?"

"Ung! _No!_ I can manage!" Mary Ann's head popped out of the wide neck opening as she yanked the hem down. In her struggles she had pulled her bathing cap off, and it floated a little ways off as her long black hair tumbled about in damp, unruly waves. A pair of very lovely but nervous brown eyes flashed amid that dark cascade. For the second time, Gilligan thought he had caught a mermaid.

Now enveloped in the Skipper's tent of a shirt and clutching the end of the fishing rod, Mary Ann managed a smile. "Thanks, Gilligan! I've been...so much trouble to you today!"

Gently treading water, Gilligan smiled shyly. "Oh, that's okay, Mary Ann. After all, it's because of me you took your clothes off." His eyes suddenly bulged and he gasped in horror. "Wait – I mean, I'm the one who took your clothes off! Uh – No! I mean - I didn't take-"

"I know what you mean," said Mary Ann, rescuing him before he capsized.

Gilligan noticed she seemed to be holding her side. "Um...are – are you sure you're okay, Mary Ann? That cramp looks awful bad!"

"It's not...just the cramp." Mary Ann blushed furiously and pulled down on the hem of the Skipper's shirt. "This shirt...won't stay in one place," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Gilligan, little buddy!" came a loud voice from shore. "Is she all right?"

"I think so, Skipper!" called Gilligan. He looked at Mary Ann. "You just hang on tight, okay, Mary Ann? Don't be scared. Just do what comes naturally!" He groaned. "Oh, my gosh!"

"It's okay." Mary Ann gave a nervous swallow and clung tight to the pole. "Ready when you are."

"Okay. Here goes!" Gilligan flexed and heaved off in a smooth glide, instantly feeling the heavy drag on the pole as Mary Ann was pulled along in his wake. He swam slowly, with measured, even strokes, kicking as gently as possible so as not to splash her with his spray. Like a long, slow barge, they moved steadily towards shore.

"Atta boy, little buddy!" called the Skipper, waving in his white undershirt.

"Hang on, Mary Ann!" called the Professor.

Mrs. Howell clasped her hands. "Oh, Thurston, it puts me in mind of our last holiday in Venice! Those divine evenings in the gondolas, gliding through those romantic canals!"

"I wouldn't start singing 'O Solo Mio' yet, my dear. The boy's doing awfully well, but I'll feel much better when they're safely moored."

"At least Mary Ann isn't screaming the way she was," said Ginger, standing anxiously on tip-toe as she looked out. "Oh, that was awful!"

The Skipper nodded. "Panic's the worst danger when you're doing water rescue. When somebody's drowning they can get so scared they have the strength of ten men. They can actually drag their rescuer right down with them!"

"That's right," said the Professor. "That's why towing's much safer, even with a person as tiny as Mary Ann. If she panicked, Gilligan couldn't hold her off. I doubt even I could!"

"I'll never forget that time she nearly took Gilligan under with her," said the Skipper. "Scared the liver out of me."

"Heavens!" said Mr. Howell. "You wouldn't think our little Mary Ann was such an Amazon!"

"It's just fear, Mr. Howell," said the Professor, shading his eyes as he watched the gliding pair drawing nearer. "But as long as she and Gilligan have that fishing pole between them, they'll be all right."

Out in the water, Gilligan felt the drag lighten a little. "You okay back there, Mary Ann?" he said, looking back.

"I think so!" she answered. "The cramp's getting better. I'm trying to swim a bit."

"That's good. Don't overdo it, though!" Though Gilligan was confident enough about his own ability to swim, he was still a little nervous about hers. He tried not to let it show in his voice. "Just take it nice and easy."

Gilligan set a gentle pace, and Mary Ann soon followed. Smoothly they stroked and glided in unison, limbs outstretched as though flying. Just beyond them, dragonflies skimmed over the water like gossamer fairies. Sunlight danced on the wavelets as the bubbles kissed the young pair's faces and caressed their arms. The only sound was soft, rhythmic rush of their own wake foaming gently behind them.

And a sudden loud buzz. Mary Ann looked up. One very large dragonfly had landed on her arm. Close up, it did not seem so fairy-like. Its buggy eyes glared like something out of a science fiction movie.

"Ugh! Go away, you!" Instinctively Mary Ann let go of the pole to swat at the insect.

Gilligan spun as the pole suddenly grew light. "What's wrong, Mary Ann?"

One or two more curious invaders came hovering up; Mary Ann swatted at them too. "Oh! Leave me alone!"

Mary Ann's back was to Gilligan. Unable to see her attacker, he imagined it was in the water. In his haste to reach her he let go of the pole and dove forwards. "What is it? A fish? A turtle?"

"Dragonflies!" Mary Ann batted the last one away. "Oh, they never got that big in Kansas! _Ow_." She reached down as her eyes narrowed in a twinge of pain.

Gilligan's eyes instantly widened in concern. "Mary Ann! Are you okay? Here, grab the—"

They both looked around to see the very tip of the pole vanishing beneath the surface like the prow of the Titanic. They were still in the very deep centre of the lagoon.

"Uh oh," said Gilligan. He looked at Mary Ann, tried to stifle a gulp, and failed. "I-I guess you better hang on to me, Mary Ann.

Now Mary Ann's cheeks had that sunburned look. She tugged on the hem of the Skipper's shirt. "I...guess," she said, with a bit of a gulp herself. "Well, here goes!"

Her warm arms looped around his neck, and his left hand stole about her waist. When he glanced down, Gilligan immediately noticed that the collar buttons on the Skipper's shirt were all undone. He also noticed that when submerged in water, the wide collar had an alarming tendency to float fairly far away from its moorings. When Gilligan tried holding Mary Ann higher out of the water, that only made the fabric cling much too close. Trying to find an acceptable position, Gilligan eventually manoeuvred himself so that he and Mary Ann were virtually cheek to cheek.

Gilligan felt the damp tendrils of her hair against his face. "You all right, Mary Ann?"

"Just fine," she whispered into his ear, though she sounded anything but.

On shore, the other castaways were watching in confusion and growing concern.

The Skipper shaded his eyes, squinting. "What's going on out there? Why'd they drop the pole?"

"Mary Ann seemed to be crying in alarm," said Mrs. Howell. "And Gilligan's gone to comfort her, the dear boy."

"But he shouldn't do that!" said the Professor. "If she starts to panic, they're both in trouble!"

Gilligan and Mary Ann were moving far more slowly now. Even the current seemed to be conspiring against them, bumping them together every time they demurely tried to stay apart. Gilligan tried to keep his hand on Mary Ann's waist, but the Skipper's shirt kept gliding up and down, and she kept moving. Several times he became aware that the Skipper's shirt was nowhere near as long on Mary Ann as he had thought it would be. He found himself very grateful that the temperature of the lagoon was on the cool side.

At last Gilligan and Mary Ann felt the soft, sandy lagoon bed beneath their feet. "Whew!" said Gilligan. "You can walk now, Mary Ann. Be careful, though. There's some big stones here and you're in bare—"

"_Yeow! Ouch!_" Mary Ann burst into the air, instinctively tightening her arms around the first mate as she felt herself coming down.

Gilligan wasn't ready for the sudden extra ballast. "Mary Ann!" was all he managed to gasp before they both went under.

The castaways on shore reacted in horror. "Oh, no! Mary Ann's panicking!" cried the Professor.

"She's dragged him under! She'll drown them both!" screamed Ginger.

"Oh, someone call the coast guard!" cried Mrs. Howell.

The Skipper was already charging into the water. "Hang on, little buddy! I'm coming!"

Mary Ann and Gilligan shot to the surface, she still clinging to his neck. They bobbed easily as their four feet bounced on the bottom. "Sorry, Gilligan," she gasped, dragging her wet hair out of her eyes. "Oh, my toe! That really startled me!"

"Startled me a bit too," he gasped, trying desperately to keep his eyes from straying down.

Suddenly they became aware of the commotion on shore and looked up to see four figures on the beach jumping up and down and shouting. But these soon vanished behind the mighty plumes of spray flung up by the Skipper in his white undershirt, who was roaring towards the young pair like Moby Dick towards the _Pequod_.

Alarmed, Gilligan pulled Mary Ann tighter and she clung all the more closely to him.

"What's he doing?" gasped Mary Ann.

Gilligan blanched with fear. "About forty knots! At this speed he's gonna ram us amidships!"

Mary Ann and Gilligan began to scream. "Skipper! Slow down!

"Oh, listen to them!" cried Ginger. "They're calling the Skipper! They say they'll drown!"

"Come on, Skipper!" urged the Professor. "Full speed ahead!"

The Skipper had heard the same thing his friends on shore had. He could see Mary Ann and Gilligan clinging to each other in obvious terror. "Hang on, you two! I'm coming!" he bawled.

Gilligan and Mary Ann were terrified, all right. "Abandon ship!" yelled the first mate, and leapt backwards, landing them both flat on their backs in the water.

"Let me stand up!" yelled Mary Ann, tugging down her hem as she struggled to get her feet beneath her.

"You don't know the Skipper when he's scared! He'll pulverize us!" yelled Gilligan, trying to get away from the Skipper and hang on to her at the same time.

At last the Skipper descended on them with huge, grasping arms. "Come on! I've got you!"

Mary Ann was as slippery as a fish in the wet polo-shirt and she twisted until she was face down, but the Skipper managed to clamp his arm around her middle and haul upwards. Water cascaded off her thrashing limbs as the Skipper hoisted her up to his hip. Mary Ann's hair was flying, her feet kicking. When she beat at the big man's stomach with her small fists, he gripped all the harder.

"_Skipper! Put me down!_"

"Calm down, Mary Ann! I've got you!"

Meanwhile, the arm beneath Gilligan's rib-cage was as thick as a hauser line and twice as tight. "Skipper! I can't breathe!" Gilligan choked.

"Don't worry, little buddy! Have you out in a minute!"

In self-defense, the first mate drove his elbow straight back into the Skipper's belly. It was a direct hit.

"Doop!"

They all crashed backwards into the water.

The four castaways on shore watched anxiously as froth and foam boiled in the three-way battle raging in the lagoon.

Mrs. Howell peered through her lorgnette. "Oh, Thurston, who's winning?"

"It's difficult to tell, my dear!" It was indeed difficult to tell, amid the flying spume and flailing bodies. "My, little Mary Ann's certainly putting up a gallant fight. Gilligan's not doing badly either, as a matter of fact. But my money's on the heavyweight champ. Hurrah! By Jove, I do believe the Captain's got them!"

The Howells, Ginger and the Professor cheered as the Skipper stood up again, one sodden castaway under each arm. He began to stagger in to shore. His burdens, however, were hardly cheering.

Mary Ann was frantically pulling at her hem with both hands now. "Skipper! Put me down! I'm fine!"

The Skipper laughed. "There, there, Mary Ann! Almost there now!"

Mrs. Howell put her lorgnette down. "Oh, dear! How dreadfully improper!" Frowning, she rapped her husband on the arm with the handle. "Thurston! Professor! What do you think you're doing? Cover your eyes, this instant!"

"Skipper!" Gilligan twisted, helpless in the Skipper's iron grip. "Put me down! I'm not drowning!"

"Not any more you're not, little buddy!"

At last the Skipper lumbered onto the beach and lowered his charges. Winded, Gilligan flopped onto the sand on all fours. In the meantime, Mary Ann stumbled away from the Skipper, clutching his shirt to her as she tried to salvage her dignity. Ginger went over and put her arm around Mary Ann's shoulders.

"Mary Ann, are you all right?"

Mary Ann glared at the Skipper. "I was until I was picked up like a sack of flour! Skipper, what did you think you were doing?"

The Skipper leaned down towards the bedraggled girl. "Mary Ann, honey, you were panicking. You didn't realize!"

She stuck out her bruised toe. "No I wasn't! I just stubbed my toe, that's all! That's why I grabbed Gilligan!"

Gilligan had hauled himself to his feet. "She's right, Skipper. She didn't panic. I did, though – when I saw you were going to steer right over us!"

"Oh..." The Skipper was flummoxed. He twiddled his fingers nervously. "Ep...sorry, Mary Ann!"

Mr. Howell chuckled. "Looks as though you sounded the 'red alert' a moment too soon, Captain."

"Well, well, let's not worry about that," the Professor soothed quickly. "The important thing is that you're both safe, and that Mary Ann is finally out of that lagoon."

"But in such a state!" cried Mrs. Howell. "The poor child! I was quite wrong, you know. That ensemble simply won't do at all! Quite unacceptable!" She looked about and suddenly noticed an odd blue shape atop a thick green bush. Mrs. Howell hurried over, tugged the shape, and drew out a large, plush, blue beach towel with a life-sized stencil of Elvis Presley on the front.

"Here you are, Mary Ann," called Mrs. Howell happily, carrying it over to her. "Just the thing – though I must say the decoration isn't quite to my taste." She wrapped the towel around the girl as the others stared. Mrs. Howell read the large lettering now draped down Mary Ann's front. "_Blue Hawaii_ – how nice! Did you buy it at your hotel?"

But Mary Ann had no eyes for Mrs. Howell. The girl clutched a corner of the towel, staring at it in disbelief. Then she turned around and looked at the Professor. "Professor! This is my beach towel!"

"Wh-why, so it is," the celebrated lecturer stammered.

"I brought it with me! When we came down to the lagoon! Why didn't you just give it to me in the first place?"

The Professor blinked, bamboozled. "Forgive me, Mary Ann! In all the excitement, I – I must have forgotten about it."

"Forgotten? _Forgotten?_" She clutched the towel around herself. "I've been stuck out there in that lagoon for ages! I've been dragged in like a flounder in front of everybody!"

The Professor shrugged helplessly. "Well, you must admit, Mary Ann. You forgot about the towel too!"

Mary Ann's eyes blazed. "I've been out there without a stitch on my body, with all of you standing here on the beach! How was I supposed to remember anything?"

"Now, Mary Ann, please don't upset yourself," the Professor pleaded. "Remember the contest! We've lost valuable time, and we still haven't done our posturing exercises yet!"

Mary Ann gave a most unladylike snort. "Maybe you should try balancing that exercise book of yours on your own head, Professor! That's about the only thing it's good for!" With a whirl of blue, she stomped off up the trail.

Ginger bent down and picked up the two black halves of Mary Ann's bathing suit, now gritty with sand. She handed them to the Professor with a mischievous smile. "Gee, Professor. Maybe part of the talent competition should be sewing!"

The Professor took the two limp pieces. His composure looked about as intact as Mary Ann's bathing suit.

Mr. Howell couldn't help chuckling. "'Fraid you've set yourself back a bit in the race, old man. I don't think poor Mary Ann's going be any too comfortable on that stage tonight. She's already had enough exposure as it is!" The millionaire chortled away until his wife shushed him.

"Don't think you're getting the biggest slice of coconut cream pie for the next few days, Professor," said the Skipper, grinning like a giant clam.

Outgunned, the Professor scowled at Gilligan. "Gilligan, the next time you happen to see me trying to do something, _kindly _don't lend me a hand!" He turned and marched stiffly up the trail, the wet suit pieces flapping like dead fish.

Mrs. Howell patted Gilligan's wet arm. "Oh, dear boy, he's just overwrought. He'll get over it. You really were wonderful, you know."

"You certainly were," said Ginger, smiling as she caressed Gilligan's wet shoulder. "Bet you never thought being a good swimmer would come in so handy!"

Gilligan did a suspicious double-take at her smile, but she turned quickly and glided towards the trail. "Well, think I'll get back to my sunbath. If I need a hero, boys, I'll give a shout." With a playfully sultry wave, she shimmered off.

"Come along, Lovey. The excitement's over." Thurston Howell tried to hide a yawn. "I believe I'll take a nap. I'm quite exhausted."

"Oh, but Thurston, I still need to practice my deep-knee bends! I do want to keep to the tempo when I'm on the runway!

"Oh, very well, my dear." Mr. Howell tipped his hat to the Skipper and Gilligan. "Ta ta, gentlemen!"

Alone on the beach, the two damp sailors stood amid the peaceful stillness of the tropical afternoon. The lagoon wavelets lapped softly at the shore.

"Penny for your thoughts, little buddy," said the Skipper.

"They're not for sale, Skipper. I don't want Mary Ann mad at me!" Gilligan swallowed, eyes bulging. He had learned more about females in this one afternoon than he had in all his time at sea.

The Skipper chuckled. "You poor knucklehead. How do you manage to get into these things?"

"I don't know, Skipper." Gilligan paused. "Oh – thanks for coming in after us, even if you didn't have to."

"Oh, don't mention it, little buddy. I'm just glad you're all right."

"Mmmm." Gilligan looked up the trail and sighed. "Do you think the Professor'll stay mad at me?"

"The Professor? Naw. He hasn't got a mean bone in his body. He's just a little embarrassed, that's all. He'll come 'round."

Gilligan looked back around at the now innocently sleepy lagoon. "I guess as long as I'm wet I might as well dive down and get Mary Ann's dress. And the Professor's fishing pole!"

"I suppose so. Ha, ha, ha!" The Skipper's laugh started in his belly and boomed up until it scared the birds. "What a fish story! Who'd ever believe it?" He clapped Gilligan on the back so hard that Gilligan stumbled forwards. "Aw, she sure was a real beauty, little buddy! Too bad you let her get away!"


End file.
